The Rulers of the Lakes A Story of George and Champlain
CHAPTER I THE HERALDS OF PERIL The three, the white youth, the red youth, and the white man, lay deep in the forest, watching the fire that burned on a low hill to the west, where black figures flitted now and then before the flame. They did not stir or speak for a long time, because a great horror was upon them. They had seen an army destroyed a few days before by a savage but invisible foe. They had heard continually for hours the fierce triumphant yells of the warriors and they had seen the soldiers dropping by hundreds, but the woods and thickets had hid the foe who sent forth such a rain of death. Robert Lennox could not yet stop the quiver of his nerves when he recalled the spectacle, and Willet, the hunter, hardened though he was to war, shuddered in spite of himself at the memory of that terrible battle in the leafy wilderness. Nor was Tayoga, the young Onondaga, free from emotion when he thought of Braddock's defeat, and the blazing triumph it meant for the western tribes, the enemies of his people.
[AN OXFORD FRESHMAN 43]
air. Lincoln had migrated from near Exeter to Pembroke; and
Brasenose had its nose quite put out of joint by St. John's. In
short, if the maps of Oxford are to be trusted, there had been a
general ~pousset~ movement among its public buildings.
But if such a shrewd and practised observer as Sir Walter Scott,
after a week's hard and systematic sight-seeing, could only say of
Oxford, "The time has been much too short to convey to me separate
and distinct ideas of all the variety of wonders that I saw: my
memory only at present furnishes a grand but indistinct picture of
towers, and chapels, and oriels, and vaulted halls, and libraries,
and paintings;" - if Sir Walter Scott could say this after a week's
work, it is not to be wondered at that Mr. Green, after so brief and
rapid a survey of the city at the heels of an unintelligent guide,
should feel himself slightly confused when, on his return to the
Manor Green, he attempted to give a slight description of the
wonderful sights of Oxford.
There was ~one~ lion of Oxford, however, whose individuality of
expression was too striking either to be forgotten or confused with
the many other lions around. Although (as in Byron's ~Dream~)
"A mass of many images
CHAPTER I THE HERALDS OF PERIL The three, the white youth, the red youth, and the white man, lay deep in the forest, watching the fire that burned on a low hill to the west, where black figures flitted now and then before the flame. They did not stir or speak for a long time, because a great horror was upon them. They had seen an army destroyed a few days before by a savage but invisible foe. They had heard continually for hours the fierce triumphant yells of the warriors and they had seen the soldiers dropping by hundreds, but the woods and thickets had hid the foe who sent forth such a rain of death. Robert Lennox could not yet stop the quiver of his nerves when he recalled the spectacle, and Willet, the hunter, hardened though he was to war, shuddered in spite of himself at the memory of that terrible battle in the leafy wilderness. Nor was Tayoga, the young Onondaga, free from emotion when he thought of Braddock's defeat, and the blazing triumph it meant for the western tribes, the enemies of his people.